


To Present Voluntarily

by blehgah



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: M/M, vague sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6638779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehgah/pseuds/blehgah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven tries not to think too hard about his relationship with Yuri, but things change after Baction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Present Voluntarily

It’s not about the sex.

Except, really, it is. Raven doesn’t mean to make it  _ just about the sex _ \--but they avoid everything else like the plague. Raven doesn’t do  _ feelings _ , doesn’t do truth in general. He’s got no heart to give, no life to offer, nothing. He’s got nothing, but he does have Yuri’s dark, dark hair between his fingers and Yuri makes this  _ sound _ when he pulls just right.

Despite all his words, despite his fronting, Raven wouldn’t normally get  _ involved _ like this with--with anyone, really, man, woman, anyone in between or outside that range. Raven has  _ nothing _ left to give, not even this body of his, but if Yuri wants  _ something _ , Raven can’t find a reason to deny him.

Raven likes him, under all that  _ dark mystery _ and  _ vigilante _ bullshit. Yuri’s a kid with a good heart and conviction, even if he’s still trying to find his way. At least he’s  _ trying  _ to find a way, trying to pin down his beliefs and choose a road to walk rather than have someone decide for him. 

(Then again, Raven, Schwann, Damuron, they didn’t have much choice in the matter, not back then, but now, now he has a sliver of choice and if he decides to give his rubbish body to someone who wants it, then he will, he will).

He refuses to take the shirt off. Of course he does. Yuri never asks, never out loud, but Raven can always see the question on the tip of his tongue. So Raven swallows it, chews it for good measure, and Yuri is pretty receptive to teeth. Not that it surprises Raven at all--a kid who  _ likes _ combat, who relishes violence and revels in the physical, oughta like it rough.

Turns out Raven likes it like that, too. It gives him a bit of life.

And after the whole ordeal, after Baction and Schwann’s death (second death?), after  _ your life belongs to Brave Vesperia now _ , Yuri changes.

Raven changes, too.

Now he’s  _ just _ Raven. Maybe he oughta take up a last name. You know, for papers. Then again, the Union’s never really gotten him for it before, why bother now?

 

Yuri unbuttons Raven’s shirt with steady, slow hands. His gaze stays low, intent on the movement of his fingers down the expanse of cloth. It hasn’t been long enough since the fight--the flesh around the blastia is still raw, still swollen and red. It stings when Yuri’s touch ghosts over him.

“It ain’t pretty, I know,” Raven mutters, and the sound of his voice beats against the quiet of the room, cracking it, revealing the soft bits underneath.

Yuri doesn’t say anything. His fingers rise above the outer ring, where flesh meets metal, and hover above the core of the blastia: Raven’s heart, more or less, all metaphors and expressions aside. It pulses with his life force. Just beyond the surface, his blood races through his system, hot and real--somehow, after all this time, after everything.

There are words in Yuri’s mouth, but he can’t decide which ones to voice first. His hand drops from the front of Raven’s chest to fist the hem of his open shirt.

“Scared me for a good bit there, you know,” Yuri finally murmurs. His eyes stay down. “I thought there’d be a monster under here or something. Thought it might bite. That there ought to be a pretty  _ damn _ good reason why you’ve been hiding.”

Yuri’s voice is sharp when it wraps around his words, almost as sharp as his sword--and Raven is very well acquainted with that now.

“I thought it was a good reason,” Raven replies in a breath. It feels as if the air in the room is running thin the longer Yuri avoids his gaze.

And he still thinks it’s a pretty good reason. There’s nothing sexy about a machine in his chest. There’s nothing sexy about fucking a corpse. He’s a coward, Raven thinks, afraid to show his mangled body to someone who might actually give a shit about him for reasons beyond his ability to hold a sword or a  _ transforming bow _ .

_ You're a coward _ , he thinks to himself, and he can imagine Yuri saying the words out loud when their eyes meet. The thought falls from his head and shatters into tiny little pieces when their eyes meet.

“I can’t…” Yuri’s eyes close and his brow furrows. Instinctively, Raven lifts a hand and cups the side of Yuri’s neck. At the touch, Yuri opens his eyes.

“I can’t lose anyone else,” he says.

“She’s not gone,” Raven replies.

_ Yet _ . The word hangs heavy between them, an anchor chained to both their necks.

“Besides, I’m not your responsibility, Yuri.” He’s an old man. He’s a dead man. He barely belongs to himself as it is; his life is not meant to be a burden on someone like Yuri. Yuri has enough on his young shoulders.

“That doesn’t mean I care any less.” Yuri’s fingers return to the blastia and Raven flinches. The core flickers with light, a reaction to the pain, and Yuri sighs.

“You’re gonna get grey hair with all that fussing,” Raven says.

Scoffing, Yuri lifts both hands and balances his elbows on Raven’s shoulders.

“I’ve got a big heart, apparently.” He grins a crooked grin. “Maybe enough for the both of us.”

“Don’t tempt an old man anymore than you already do.”

A chuckle or two float from Yuri’s mouth. He leans forward and presses the dip of his nose into the crook of Raven’s neck.

“You’re not dead yet, Raven,” Yuri murmurs. Raven can feel Yuri’s breath against his clavicle. “I can’t touch a dead man like this, can I?”

“You’ve been for a while, actually. Hate to break it to you like this.”

Yuri lifts his head. Wearing a scowl, he opens his hand and presses the curve of his palm against Raven’s throat. His heartbeat vibrates against Yuri’s warm skin.

“Does a dead man have a heartbeat?” Yuri asks. His voice borders on a growl.

“I like to call it a blastia beat, actually,” Raven comments. “Got a nice ring to it, yeah? Allitera--”

His words die out when Yuri closes his hand and cuts off his air. The rest of his train of thought struggles in his throat.

“Does a dead man need to breathe?” Yuri asks.

Raven swallows and feels his throat expand against the expanse of Yuri’s palm.

“No,” Raven manages.

“Does a dead man feel pain?” Yuri asks. His grip loosens, but as he draws his hand away from Raven’s neck, he scrapes his nails against Raven’s skin none too gently.

Raven inhales sharply. “No,” he breathes, and his voice rattles noisily against his teeth.

“I could go on,” Yuri tells him, resting his knuckles in the dip of Raven’s clavicle, “but I think you get my point.”

Yuri leans in and presses his cheek to Raven’s. “You’re no use to Brave Vesperia dead.” His breath is hot and moist against Raven’s skin. “I want you alive, Raven.”

He can’t give something he doesn’t have. He can’t give something that doesn’t exist. There is no Raven that’s alive. 

But Raven can’t say no to Yuri, either.

“I might just have to live, then,” Raven says. Yuri leans back slowly, slowly, turning his head to drag his lips across the line of Raven’s jaw. “Since you own my life, apparently.”

“Your life belongs to Brave Vesperia,” Yuri corrects him. Raven feels Yuri’s grin against his skin. “But you belong to me.”

Exhaling, Raven slides his hands through Yuri’s hair. He hums in response.

“As long as you want me,” Raven murmurs.

Their eyes meet again. Though Yuri’s gaze is sharp like a knife against his throat, like a sword against the blastia in his chest, Raven doesn’t mind. Raven embraces it, delights in the pain that reminds him that he might be more alive than he’s been led to believe, than he’s led himself to believe.

Yuri crushes his mouth to Raven’s. Yuri has already said he wants Raven, and he supposes this just confirms it, drives it through his thick skull, penetrates through the complex lattice of his thoughts using a kind of language he can understand inherently, unthinkingly: it’s a dance they’ve performed again and again, and even if this time it’s different, even if this time it’s changed, it still pulls something out of Raven that only Yuri can have, only Yuri wants, only Yuri gets.

Raven won’t let himself be Yuri’s responsibility, but he’ll think of Yuri when he needs a reason to be responsible for himself. It’s a pretty damn good reason, he thinks, and he’ll stack the others on there too while he’s at it.

But in the end, his life belongs to Brave Vesperia--and he belongs to Yuri.

**Author's Note:**

> this work was strongly influenced by two songs by the band Stars: [walls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9Qp7ZNJq7A) and [midnight coward](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKEWzTzX0Ac). give them a listen!
> 
> also you can find me on tumblr @ aidankalenko (or my tales of sideblog miklesolitaire) and twitter @ blehgah if you ever want to talk about this ship that deserves more attention lmao


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